


a conference of importance

by wtfmulder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 07:31:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15881442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtfmulder/pseuds/wtfmulder
Summary: prompt: sex in public where other agents might hear them. Set in s7!





	a conference of importance

While all the compliant agents broke for lunch, Mulder and Scully made their polite apologies to everyone they brushed up against in their haste to exit the crowd. They swam against the tide, away from the hotel doors spilling out to busy town square. No one questioned it. No one had ever even seen them eat before.

“I’l have a number three, large,” said Agent Milton, who carefully folded her receipt to slip into her wallet as the line moved quickly behind her. This was at the local burger place, and just one block down men and women wearing suits and paper name tags queued up outside for pizza slices as big as their heads. It was a pleasant summer day, and no one minded the long wait – not even the locals, who were used to large conferences and buses filled with tourists.

The bathrooms at the hotel were  _nice_ , the calming sort, dim lights and fake marble countertops. The FBI hadn’t splurged. The FBI hadn’t paid a penny. A higher up had a friend, and that friend was a felon, and so the annual training conference was looked forward to by all.

In Scully’s purse, hanging on a hook in the handicapped men’s bathroom stall located on the second floor of the building – nowhere near the conference hall – were four protein bars and a couple of apples, which was a normal enough lunch for them when they got slammed with work. The bathroom was empty and quiet, save for the spa music playing on a loop and the rhythmic tap of heeled shoes clicking on the tile floor.

She watched them in the mirror, her lips occasionally brushing across it and slashing through the fog with her lipstick. Hour lunch. Mulder was clearly in no hurry from the way he was leisurely pumping into her. Folded over the sink with her back arched, it felt more dignified than it looked – compact and well lit, two bodies that had no business fitting together so well doing just that.

His hands were weighty and hot, one on her back, thumb brushing the outline of her tattoo, the other firmly wrapped around her shoulder. They rubbed her raw through her starchy blouse, and anchored her down to the sink as he fucked her slowly as he pleased. “Scully,” he murmured, moaning as she clenched all around him. “You are  _loving_ this,” he marveled, watching her lashes flutter in the mirror, her face slack and flush with pleasure. He sped up a fraction, holding her down tight. “What is it?”

She didn’t answer, closing her eyes and letting her head thunk down between her spread arms. Bringing them closer together, she cat stretched until it pushed her rear further back. He growled, dragging one hand down to grope her ass through her skirt. A whimper spilled from her bruised lips, and her heart beat wildly in her chest.

“We haven’t tried this position. Is that it?” No, she shook her head. Her hair fell into her face and Mulder paused to brush it away. A gentle, loving gesture, until his hand wrapped around her chin and forced her head up. “Eyes open.”

They flew open. The sales rep at the M.A.C. counter spent twenty minutes of Scully’s rare free time talking her into an expensive waterproof mascara, and the results were satisfactory. The rest of her looked well-screwed and hot for it, but there was not a black streak to be found.

“Hair’s a mess. Your lipstick is smudged.” Hand down from her chin and around her throat, holding her head up. Strong, thin, capable fingers, wide palm and scarred knuckles. Small. She felt small, reedy and collapsible.  “You broke a nail trying to get my zipper down. Is that it?”

Didn’t know what he was talking about. Shook her head. There was the fear that his dick was simply that great and she was doomed for the rest of her life, then there was that spot he hit inside her that turned her legs to jello.

“Careful,” he said, and she tightened her calf muscles to stay upright. “That was a miss? You’re not into it? Walking into a room of trained investigators…” He trailed off, grunting and pounding into her hard. His thumb shifted far from her carotid, and he got gentler as he got deeper, seven years of careful conditioning. “They’re gonna  _know_ ,” he said. “Oh yeah. Just look at you. Of course they’re going to know.”

He’d borrowed her last tube of chapstick and now she didn’t know where it was. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip and she tasted the blood and she licked it up and she liked it. Her stomach panged from where it pushed into the hard edge of the countertop, and she met eyes with him in the mirror. He never seemed to care that anyone could look at him at any given moment in time and know, that his eyes said too much and he stood too close to her.

“Maybe I just like you,” she said, wincing at her baritone.

“You don’t get this wet for me,” he said. At her raised eyebrow, he pulled out and slid forward slowly, testing her. He pushed up against her clit and her calf popped up, a sharp heel grazing against his slacks. “Oh,” he chuckled, easing back in, her cunt fighting nearly every inch of the way. “Almost speared me.”

“I get,” she licked her stinging lips. “ _So_  wet for you–” he squeaked. “You know that.”

“Baby–” her head smacked against the mirror, and he didn’t notice. _She_ barely noticed. Mulder hadn’t been too far off the mark, and she could hear the slip and squelch of him moving in and out of her. He didn’t finish whatever he wanted to say, which was fine, because she could use that one word and that scraped-bone voice and let it take her anywhere. The worst thing Fox Mulder ever did to her was make her some sort of a romantic who liked that all of that mess.

The fancy bathroom door had well-oiled hinges, and thus there was no warning when one voice spoke up, followed by the sound of two zippers.

“Director Cassady did a good job–” Scully’s face went up in flames as Mulder’s eyes grew twice their size. “They say he’s been up for a promotion.”

“Skinner,” Scully mouthed into the mirror. Mulder nodded sharply before putting on his gagging face, which almost made her laugh. Her hand clamped over her mouth and he went completely still inside of her, the tips of his fingers sliding underneath her blouse.

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” boomed a deeper, faintly annoyed voice.

Their eyes met in the mirror again.

His narrowed.

Suddenly his hips popped forward at full force, a firm, swift hand covering her mouth before she could scream out. “I hate him,” Mulder seethed, unable to stop himself from repeating it over and over. “I hate him, I hate him, I hate him…”

She drooled into his palm and melted into the sink, the bruising pace of his rhythm knocking the wind out of her. If the counter didn’t hold on to her weight, she’d sink to her knees on the floor. The pads of his fingers nudged against her teeth and his frame folded over hers, trapping her where she laid. His cock was a punishing thing, his strength brainless and unstoppable. She writhed. She soaked him. When Skinner and Kersh stepped closer to the occupied stall to wash their hands, their shoes visible as she peeped under the stall, she went rigid as she came, fluttering muscle and ripped pantyhose and spit running down her chin.

“You want to be  _caught_?” Mulder asked in her ear when they were safe, surprised. “ _That’s_  what this is about?” It was the wrong time to ask her questions.

“I don’t know,” she groaned, thunking her head against glass. Her thighs pulsed and twitched as she struggled to stay up, oversensitivity kicking in. “Come on. Come in me.”  
  
“Oh  _shit_ –”  
  
“Yeah, come in me. Fill me up,” she panted, grinding back against him. Her stomach flipped and swooped like it wanted to fall out. She continued the desperate mantra as he shoved his hips into hers and stilled, his ejaculate stinging warm and reaching deep. When he pulled out it she could feel it leaking around him and she clenched, gasping at the feel of it dripping down her thighs.

Mulder gently turned her around, or at least nudged her until she managed to do it herself, and went about righting her as best as he could. The pantyhose were balled up and tossed in the trash can, but thankfully she had a spare set in her bag. In the sink Mulder washed himself up, then he zipped up his pants, and Scully made her hair look almost presentable. She watched him fight a war with himself, looking down at her skirted thighs and then back up with a question in his eyes, and she gave him a minute shake of her head before he could drop to his knees.

“No time,” she said, but her legs shook at the thought. She cleaned up with a damp paper towel instead and hiked up her panties, then the spare set of hose. Heels, light coat of lipstick, a little hairspray.

She caught him watching her in the mirror and he cleared his throat, looking away. She powdered her face, lost in thought. Before today missionary hadn’t yet lost its appeal, nor had she ever been so… vocal. This was new, and the risk of their activities was not lost on her. It hadn’t been smart, but…

“That was fun,” she said, snapping her compact shut. They smiled at each other in the mirror.

He leaned out of the doorway and checked the hall before signaling for her to come out, then followed behind her with a hand on the small of her back.

“Eat,” she said, shoving an apple in his hand. He obeyed, saliva pooling on the center of his tongue as the tang of the apple reach his tastebuds. “I’m not taking the stairs. I don’t think I can,” she cut in when he tried to drag her that way. He smiled like a damn idiot the whole way up on the elevator, and didn’t stop grinning even when they were seated back in the conference room, which was filled with trained investigators.

One look at his face, and the whole room would know.


End file.
